The marker is worn, smooth marble that's been gently wind-kissed a thousand times over, and Tessa has to run a pale hand down its center to convince herself of its tangibility.
His name, as powerful as ever, rests on the stone's slick surface, half faded by the pass of time. Her scarf, wrapped securely about her neck, is black, like his hair was, always framing that charming smile of his, and her cheeks are wet with tears. Time creates a certain numbness of the heart, a thought completely in contrast with the fondness she's so often heard of, and she swears that she can see him in the reflection cast upon the marker, all black hair and vibrant blue eyes, gazing down at her with a heavy-lidded stare.
Tessa almost leans into the form coming ever closer to her and sighs, closing her stormy grey eyes at the feeling of hands on her shoulders, familiar after all this time, and the blinding white hue of robe sleeves pressing against her only makes Tessa want to lean into the embrace more, caught up in her renewed sorrow and grief as she turns her head to the side, lips parting against a cold cheek as arms wrap around her, lips brushing over rough scars and warm runes.
Only you, Tessa, says Brother Zachariah's voice in her head, and in that moment she feels his grief, as strong as her own.
Tessa finally allows herself to sob against him, vivid memories of Will coming to her mind, and Jem's grip around her only tightens.
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